


Never Need Another, Under The Heat Of This Blade

by hallowgirl



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: (sort of), Angst, Angsty Biscuits, Bittersweet Ending, Cannot Spit It Out, Clameron - Freeform, Coalition, Cross-Party Romance, David Cameron - Freeform, Fiona Apple - freeform, M/M, Manipulation, Maybe Not A Happy Ending, Nick Clegg - Freeform, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, angsty feels, more than friends, power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:33:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4258320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallowgirl/pseuds/hallowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So he doesn't let his hands linger and he doesn't let himself break down and he doesn't invite Nick to step closer and he doesn't let himself work out if he wants to."</p>
<p>In which it's not the being something more that's the problem, it's what David and Nick can let themselves do about it. Inspired by the song "Hot Knife" by Fiona Apple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Need Another, Under The Heat Of This Blade

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was going through old bits of fanfic I wrote and found this Clameron piece. The song lyrics are "Hot Knife" by Fiona Apple, which sort of set my brain off writing this little biscuit of Clameron angst. Leave a comment if you like it!  
> Obviously, complete fiction, never happened, etc.

_If I'm butter, then he's a hot knife_  
_He makes my heart a cinemascope_  
_He shows me the dancing birds of paradise_  
_He excites me_  
_Must be like the Genesis of Rhythm_  
_With him, I get feisty_  
_If I'm butter, then he's a hot knife-Fiona Apple_  
*

There are times when David pulls words out of his throat he thought he'd never say, has him standing up, almost shouting his point of view, in a way that drags his spine upright and leaves his heart beating hard and fast against his ribs, the punctuation to his words. Nick can listen to the way David can make his point over and over, always in that firm, calm way, that makes everyone listen harder than they do when Nick shouts, and he can never get tired of hearing it.  
Nick has never really shouted before but somehow whenever David gives him that approving nod when he shouts, that small jerk of his head that means Nick's earned his respect for something, Nick feels as though he's tripled in height, even as he reminds himself that it's David, and it's arguments and it can't matter.  
There are times when Nick just wants to agree and he hates himself for that, hates the way that sometimes his feelings and thoughts can be tugged and spread back and forth so easily, the way everyone says, the way all the papers say about him and David. But there's something in his chest that's weak and reaching and that rejoices in itself, shivering and with an aching smile, when he agrees with something David's said and he gets that grin, that handshake, some joke along the lines of _I knew I was right to pick you._ And he smiles, that aching smile, because the fact that he and David have things in common is something that seems to nestle in his chest, hard and achingly happy.  
From those first conversations, he knew he wasn't going to be the way they'd say he was because he knew that wasn't the way he was being pulled. He was being pulled to fight back, to offer his own views, because he wants David to respect him and if he agrees with David on everything, allows himself to be tugged along in the slipstream of Tory policies and opinions, then he'll have David's liking, David's friendship, but there'll always be something pitying in the way David looks at him, always be something that wishes he could be something _more_ , something _strong._ And Nick can't bear to think of it, to picture that look on David's face, so he works to fight back at every opportunity, even when every friendly word exchanged between him and David-even something as simple as _Good morning-_ feels the same way it used to when he caught the opening credits of his favourite film as a child, only harder and faster and something that leaves him aching with hope, rather than wrapped up in the sureness of a happy ending.  
*  
_I'm a hot knife_  
_He's a pat of butter_  
_If I get a chance, I'm gonna show him_  
_That he'll never need another, never need another-Fiona Apple_  
*

David knew it wasn't going to be like anyone said, but he doesn't think anyone could guess how it is.  
He wants Nick to argue. Wants it strangely, like a constant gnawing in his chest. Feels something rejoice when Nick argues his point, demands something, _fights_ for something. When Nick gives in, when Nick lets him have his own way-something about it makes something slide away, a feeling of crumbling disappointment in his chest, a constant hissed chant of _Come on, fight harder, do better.._  
But even then, he smiles at Nick because he can't help but smile at Nick. He doesn't think there's anyone in the world who could help smiling at Nick.  
Everyone says that it's him who's teaching Nick the ropes but he knows that's not the way it is. Nick has a way with people-David's never been awkward, never been uncomfortable but seeing the way Nick is-something about how he can make anyone feel at home with one grin, and shake of the hand-makes something twinge in David's chest that he originally thinks is envy. It takes him until he's halfway home to realise it's _fondness_ and then he wonders how far gone he is that he thinks of fondness and envy becoming one another so easily.  
David always presumed it would be him teaching Nick the way of things. It never occurred to him that it would be the other way round. It certainly never occurred to him that Nick would never realise it.  
And yet, a part of him holds onto that because something about the way it is between them works. The constant back-and-forth of argument, the moments when David finds himself watching Nick, teetering on his opinion, knowing he's about to give in for once, and he wonders if anyone would believe that this is the way it goes. That all it ever is is an agreement, a nod of the head and a touch on the arm. That there's sometimes a moment when David's hand lingers, Nick's wrist brushes but there's always a reason to break away.  
*  
Nick knows it's there. He's not stupid or blind. He can't let himself be. He has to let himself see and not touch, feel and not speak. It could be so much less but it could be something more, too.  
He feels tugged back and forth, by not allowing himself to be tugged, because he has to make a stand, he has to make an impression, he _has to, he has to, he has to._  
So he fights and holds on and smiles and aches and stands right next to David, almost close enough to touch, and doesn't take a step closer.  
*  
David knows Nick knows but they both pretend not to. So, he lets himself fight with Nick and tells himself it's making Nick stronger. That he's helping Nick. That he's saving him.  
And maybe this is what they both need, to build themselves up without breaking themselves down.  
So he doesn't let his hands linger and he doesn't let himself break too often and he doesn't invite Nick to step closer, and he doesn't let himself work out if he wants to.  
*  
_Maybe he could teach me something_  
_Maybe I could teach him too_  
_Even just the once goes to show_  
_That he is never gonna get a hold on you-Fiona Apple_  


**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you liked it!


End file.
